


Cat's Got Your Tongue (and your heart)

by Talinor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Library AU, Major Character Injury, Meet-Cute, fairytale AU, shapeshifter AU, so many cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a beautiful blue tiefling known far and wide. She was as cunning as she was charming, and despite her tendency for tricks, many sought to court her. None of them caught her interest. Yet they persisted in a wide variety of ways, oblivious to her attempts to ward them off.So she came up with a plan. She announced to her suitors a challenge: she would marry whoever managed to use the key on her cat's collar to unlock her home's front door. Pretty simple, right? Wrong, as her suitors soon found out. The kitty-cat was verrry fast and didn't trustanyone.Every time someone other than her owner tried getting near her, she'd managed to slip and hide away. It'd take someone special to crack the cat's code.





	Cat's Got Your Tongue (and your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a tumblr post I can't find for the life of me and the widojest discord  
> ilu guys
> 
> enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful blue tiefling known far and wide. She was as cunning as she was charming, and despite her tendency for tricks, many sought to court her. None of them caught her interest. Yet they persisted in a wide variety of ways, oblivious to her attempts to ward them off.

_So she came up with a plan. She announced to her suitors a challenge: she would marry whoever managed to use the key on her cat's collar to unlock her home's front door. Pretty simple, right? Wrong, as her suitors soon found out. The kitty-cat was verrry fast and didn't trust **anyone.** Every time someone other than her owner tried getting near her, she'd managed to slip and hide away. It'd take someone special to crack the cat's code. _

~+~

The morning seemed like any other for Caleb. The Cat's Cradle was routinely quiet, save for the occasional hushed voice, turning page, or purr. The building used to be an abandoned sanctuary for the town's stray cats, and even when renovations to turn it into a library began, the cats apparently didn't get the memo to stop hanging around. 

Instead of driving them away, the Brenattos decided to let them stay and came up with the name. While not a permanent shelter, care for the cats were provided. Cages were available, but very rarely used for aggressive and/or sick cats to be given to a proper veterinarian. Other than that, strays were allowed to come and go as they wished.

Through his years working there, he'd seen many interesting strays. Most had varying battle scars, from mild to missing appendages. He's learned to recognize certain visible disease symptoms and little kittens ready to come out of their mothers. He could understandably consider himself an amateur veterinarian at this point.

So when he saw a new little russian blue among a bookshelf he was going to rearrange, he didn't pay much attention to it. The coat was very clean and flea-free. She had all her limbs intact and scarless, tail included. Her wide yellow eyes were clearly trained on him with dilated pupils. The stare persisted. Her ears were intact, but folded completely against her head. Her tail was wrapped against her body.

All were signs of defensiveness. Though unusually well-kept for a stray, this cat definitely didn't feel comfortable with him. He didn't keep locking gazes with her for long, but he did make sure to blink slowly at her before looking away. From what he'd read, it was a sign meaning, 'I'm not a threat to you.' He didn't bother to check for her reaction. He still had work to do, after all.

Across the building, he heard the door slam open and a soaked, angry man yelling what sounded like extremities in Elvish. Nott was quick to deal with him for disturbing the peace. He wasn't close enough to hear their somewhat-quieter argument. Something from the gentleman about a 'damn cat' and demanding to know where it was. Nott, of course, did _not_ take too kindly to that.

When he looked back to the shelves, the peculiar cat was gone. Though he had no reason to be, he was certain he'd see her again.

He didn't know how right he was.

+

The next time he saw her was after hours at the market.

The sky was nearly done putting the sun to bed, with only the barest peek of a golden eye on the horizon. The stars were blinking awake at the inhabitants below. Most market goers were making their final purchases for the day. The sweet aroma of pastries from the nearby bakery still wafted about, but the last batch of the day was already done. There were only whispers of the wind outside.

He was minding his own business, as usual. Nothing was needed except for the fresh air and the time alone. The past couple days had been surprisingly _exhausting._ He took the job at the library for the minimum socialization and maximum time around his favorite things- cats, books, and the Brenattos. For the most part, it had been the ideal workplace for him.

However, the past week was the polar opposite. Many more people came to the Cat's Cradle, but not for the books or the comfortable homey atmosphere. They'd relentlessly assault him with questions and demands about the russian blue. Very few believed him when he said he couldn't possibly remember every stray that came in (which was admittedly a lie). The good ones would take the hint early and dejectedly leave him alone. The worst ones would pester him for _hours._

She was a strangely well-groomed cat, but he had no earthy _idea_ why so many people would want her so badly. They'd only scoff when he'd ask.

His paradise of silence was quickly shattered by a gruff shout. _"Someone!"_ a very ticked-off voice called from around a corner a couple yards away. _"Git that lil hellion!"_

In the same instant, he saw the same russian blue dart around the corner like hell was nipping at her tail. She made a beeline in his direction, slipping between his legs. Only for an instant-- so fast he almost thought he'd imagined it-- she looked back, right at him. 

Then the moment was over. She wiggled into the small alleyway between the bakery and the general store.

The owner of the voice wasn't too far behind. He was an older human man with frizzled salt and pepper hair and a sour expression. Naturally, he went right for Caleb. "Hey, you there! Young'un!" He walked with a mild limp, but that definitely didn't deter him. "Didja see a cat just now? Grayish fur, yellow eyes, the whole shebang? It was runnin' pretty fast this way."

Caleb just gave him a curt smile. "Nein, friend," he lied. "It must've gone a different way before I could see it."

He didn't regret his decision when the man turned away muttering something about 'doggarn useless kids'. He turned to head home--

_\--Oblivious to the purple eyes watching him._

+

Early the next morning, he was approached at the front desk by a face he could have sworn he'd seen before. She was a light blue tiefling with a splay of freckles across her face and an excitable twinkle in her eyes.

"Excuse me?" she said in a thick accent he couldn't quite place. "Hi, I'm sure you know me."

It took him a moment to connect the dots. "Indeed I do."

She rolled her eyes like this was a routine introduction. "The Ruby's d--"

"The writer for the Traveller pamphlets."

He saw her freeze at that. "Really? That- You read those?" You could practically feel the excitement radiating off of her. "Are you a disciple?"

He shook his head. "Not... particularly. Many temples leave their pamphlets here," he bent down a bit to rifle through his little collection. "I read them out of curiosity, mostly." It didn't take long to get the Traveller one. It was quite distinct. He pulled out the glittery green decorated pamphlet and showed her the small picture of her on the very back credits page entitled 'Jester Lavorre'. "I will admit, you have a very... entertaining tone in your writing. It was a fun read."

Her slight disappointment at the fact he wasn't a follower was quickly squashed. "Really?" She smiled and tucked a stray bit of dark blue hair behind a pointed ear. "Thank you. No one's ever told me that before."

"That's a shame." He really should tell her that he had to get back to work if she didn't need his help with anything. What came out of his mouth instead was, "Have you written anything else, by chance? If you don't mind me asking."

She shook her head, nose crinkling a little bit. "I don't mind you asking, thank you," she answered. "But no. I don't really have a lot of time on my hands." She chuckled humorlessly. One finger curled her hair around idly. "I don't think anyone would be interested in anything I would wanna write anyway."

"Well," he gave her a brief but genuine smile. "Now you know someone who would be." In his peripheral, he saw someone approaching. They looked concerned and nursed small, but bleeding claw marks. "Scheisse," he muttered. A brief confusion crossed her face before she followed his gaze. "I'm so sorry, Miss Lavorre, but I should deal with this." Without looking, he grabbed the healing kit.

"Oh," she winced a bit at the sight of the wound. "I understand, Mister...?"

"Widogast. Er, _Caleb_ Widogast." He bowed his head at her and went to resolve what he hoped would be a minor issue.

Miss Lavorre watched him go with a blooming smile. Her eyes trailed down to the pamphlet still in her hands. _"Cay-leb Widow-ghast,_ huh?" She said the name like she was testing whether or not her lips liked forming it.

The results came out immediately: they did.

+

Later that day, while refilling the empty food bowls, he heard a small meow behind him. He didn't pay much mind to it... until an impatient paw swatted at his dangling scarf. The cat meowed for his attention once again. And again. And again.

Finally he looked over at the culprit: the russian blue. She was lying on her back, clearly showing her belly. He knew better than to rub it. Though she thankfully wasn't showing the signs of wanting to fight, he knew what would probably happen if he tried to pet her. He'd rather not get his arm or hand clawed up, thank you very much.

"What?" He softly asked. "You want to play, katze?" She answered him with a high-pitched meow and a fluid tail swish. Gods above, it was _adorable._

Officially, he wasn't supposed to play with the cats. Though most were accustomed and friendly toward people, it wasn't uncommon for them to get riled up and carried away. Healing kits did the job cut and dry ninety-nine percent of the time, but the one percent was always ugly. So while playing with the strays wasn't forbidden for the non-employees, employees were advised against it just in case.

But he'd seen Yeza and Nott playing with their fair share of kittens and cats alike to know he wouldn't be seriously punished for doing so. As long as he was careful and didn't take too long, the occasional cat break was overlooked. So he reached into the closest pocket in his work coat for a toy.

What he pulled out was a crinkly stuffed pink-swirled lollipop. A long green ribbon was tied into a bow, the overhang deliberately dangling over her. Practically begging to be swatted at. The noble cat answered the call gladly. She swatted at from her position on her back until Caleb moved the toy away. She wasn't far behind it.

They held that pattern for a considerable amount of time. To her credit, the little kitty was more energetic than most. She was still going as strong around the time most would tire or simply grow bored. But she didn't slow or move away.

Until her teeth found purchase around the lollipop stick. His grip was slack and wasn't enough to keep hold of the toy. As soon as she was the sole holder of her earned prize, she was off like a bolt of lightning.

He didn't bother chasing after her. He still had work to do, after all. He'd probably find it in some back corner of the library after hours.

He didn't.

+

Caleb was archiving the arriving overdue dates that still hadn't been returned when he heard a rapt knocking at the desk. His gaze lifted to meet Miss Lavorre's trying to read what he was writing down. Her lips were pursed, her brows were raised, and she was not-so-subtly trying to lean over the desktop. Soon as she noticed him noticing, she waved.

"Hiii Cay-leeb!" she sing-songed. "I need your help with something. Are you busy with... whatever you're doing or...?" The last r rolled a considerable distance before she finally trailed off. She looked at him expectantly.

He paused to consider. This needed to get done today, but not right now. Besides, he was supposed to help anyone that needed it, no matter what else he'd been doing beforehand. He could always finish it up later.

"I can spare some time, Miss Lavorre," he closed the archive book and gingerly put it away for the moment. "What do you need from me?"

"Advice mostly," she told him. "You're Zemnian, right?"

"Ja, what of it?"

"Okay, so last night I was thinking about what you said," she spoke quickly and with great animation. "About how you'd want to read anything else I might try to write. So I figured you'd also wanna hear about any ideas I might wanna write about, and I had a lot, but I've got one I _rrreeeeally_ wanna do." She put her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her fist. Even from his position, he could see her tail swishing fluidly.

"Really?" He leaned forward in interest. To be honest, he didn't think she'd take what he told her to heart. This was a rather pleasant surprise. "What's your idea?"

Her grin widened at the confirmation of his interest. So she continued on. "Okay, so, the main guy is a troubled Zemnian human wizard."

His brows raised. "So you're going for fantasy?" He wasn't really surprised at that. Considering how she described the Traveller, she seemed to believe he could intervene in his followers' lives and give them fantastic magical powers of all kind. It all sounded like old tales his parents used to tell him as a child, but he didn't mind that. He simply doubted it was true.

That was not the right thing to say. Her excitement visibly deflated. "Yes," she said. "Is there something wrong with that? Is it too silly?"

"Nein, no," he couldn't shake his head fast enough. "Of course not. I think you'd be excellent at it." He shrugged. "I was simply wondering why."

The words helped, but she certainly wasn't as excited as she'd been before. He mentally kicked himself. "It's fun," she answered. "I don't want to write about something that's been done before," her brows furrowed. "But it's not purely..." She shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Never mind. You were busy. I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She turned to walk away.

"Wait." The word was out before he could think about what he wanted to say. He just... didn't want to end their interaction, however brief, on such a sour note. 

It was successful. She stopped and turned back to look at him. "Yes?"

His throat dried up quick. He raced for something, anything to say. So he blurted out the first question on his mind.

"This Zemnian wizard," he started. "What happened to him?"

"What?"

"You called him 'troubled'. How come?"

That was the right thing to say.

+

_The arms reached up high, flickering hands reaching for the stars and hoping the plentiful embers would join them. Like zealots clamoring to the gods to accept their sacrifice. Except instead of the scraps of dinner or the life of a goat, the sacrifice was his childhood home... and the lives of his parents trapped inside._

_Bren stood a mere couple yards away. He was a young and able-bodied lad. One such as him could easily run back to town and get help. At this point, it might have been too late to save their lives, but it would be better than total inaction. Yet all he was capable of doing at the moment was standing there. Rooted to the spot like the tree that still had his old tire swing strung upon the branches. Despite the taunting flames in front of him, the only thing he felt was growing ice. Overtaking him, blocking him, becoming him._

_The blood rushing through his head collaborated with the roaring crackle of the flames to create a hellish orchestra. He could barely hear anything over it... Barely._

_Maybe it was his imagination playing a demented trick on him. Maybe it was real, and he just didn't want to believe it. Whichever it was, he could have sworn he heard his parents' wretched voices synchronized in calling for him. Bren... BREN..._

_"Bren!" He blinked with a start, thrown headfirst into the freezing pool of reality. "Are you listening?"_

Caleb blinked in surprise and set the small manuscript down gently. He knew fine parchment and fine writing. He didn't want to tarnish either. All he could think to say after reading was, "Wow."

Jester's brow raised. "Is that a good 'wow' or a bad 'wow'?" she asked. "'Cause this took, like, ten minutes, so I can always rewrite it if it's too much." She fiddled with her peacock feather quill anxiously. Looking for his approval. The late lantern light played upon her face: her twinkling eyes, her bit and taut lips, her furrowed brows. Such worry didn't suit someone such as her.

"Are you going to answer my question, Caleb," her voice held a playful lilt to it again. Her expression softened. "Or are you going to keep staring at my face?"

He blinked in surprise, but he recovered swiftly. "Of course," he nodded. "Verzeihung, Miss Lavorre. It-"

"Jester."

"Hm?"

"You don't have to be so formal," she told him softly, like she was telling him a secret. "You can just call me Jester, if you'd like to."

He thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "I think," he said. "I would like to, Jester." 

He gingerly gave her the manuscript back. She lifted a hand to take it, and when she did, he could have sworn she deliberately let their fingers brush. Almost intertwined for the briefest of moments.

Must have been his imagination.

+

The next couple of weeks after that passed by on the swift but sweet wings of comfortable routine. Every morning, he'd come to work with hastily scribbled pages full of what was obviously a largely overarching story. It wasn't what he expected someone as cheerful as Jester to come up with, but he enjoyed it immensely.

_Bren allowed his mind to wander as his body swayed in a buzzed stupor. Scorched palms against cool smooth skin, fingers interwoven as locks of braided hair, a wondrous resounding melody of bubbly laughter. The heart beating in sync with his own. The strong arms he knew, without a doubt, would support him if he stumbled. It almost felt like emotional phantom pain, his heart digging up ghosts he'd never thought he'd feel again. It almost felt like..._

_"Astrid."_

_"Hm?" Sapphire's lilting voice brought him back from the brink. He opened his eyes to meet a concerned silver gaze. Her navy blue arms were still upon him, but they were tense now. The magic was shattered. The moment was over. "Bren, are you...?"_

_"Ja," the lie greeted his tongue as an old friend. "I'm fine. Simply tired, that's all."_

She'd arrive around his lunch break. He'd be ready and waiting with notes written on the daily manuscripts and questions on his mind. Any fixes he could recommend were minor, and she always learned from and fixed her mistakes. Any feedback was valuable. They'd eat together and discuss what she had in that beautiful mind of hers, among other things.

_"I have a question," he said after a bite. "Since I feel like you've thought this far ahead in the storyline."_

_She only hummed in a way he'd learned meant 'I'm listening, I just underestimated how big this pastry was and popped it into my mouth. Because I'm not a quitter, now I have to deal with the consequences, but please go on.' He knew that hum well. It happened far too many times to count. She never learned from it. Yet he never grew annoyed at or tired of it._

_"Why does Bren use primarily fire-related spells?" He took a moment to keep his food away from a potential thieves' paws. "All it seems to do is hurt and remind him of what happened, so how come he keeps doing it?" Veth, an old but kindly stray momma cat, draped across his lap as he spoke. He petted her absentmindedly, for his focus was on Jester._

_Her eyes glimmered with knowing mischief at the question. She held up a finger to her still-struggling mouth. She needed a moment, but she obviously had an answer to the question._

_Her tail taunted a group of curious kittens. They reached their little paws to swat at the spade-shaped end, but it stayed just out of their reach. They persisted at the promise of prevailing and play-fought amongst themselves, oblivious when Veth stepped in slowly. She took her time observing the tail, then butted her head against the spade with a rattled but steady purr. Jester gave the cat a fond look. Only then did her tail move, gliding down scarred but soft fur repeatedly._

Eventually they talked less about the manuscripts and more about themselves. Their somewhat exciting daily events, memorable stories, and such. Compared to hers, his life was rather boring. While she rarely spoke of her mother, a popular courtesan called the Ruby of the Sea, she attracted the attentions of a wide array of interesting customers. The stuffy or otherwise unpleasant made great prank targets and even greater stories.

Caleb listened to them with rapt attention. Most people, however interesting or charming, were exhausting to interact with for long. Some people had longer limits than others, but limits were still limits nonetheless. People had a tendency to unknowingly wear him down just by holding a conversation for more than a couple minutes. He thought it would apply to Jester, too.

But if there was a limit to interacting with her, he hadn't found it yet. He hadn't even come close to it, for his conversations with Jester never exhausted him. If anything, they revitalized him. He found himself with new untapped energy after lunch breaks were over. She apparently had plenty to spare.

_"Cayyy-leeeb!" Her sing-song voice greeted his ears and gently grabbed his attention. She practically skipped over to him. Her voice dropped to what could barely be considered a whisper. "I baked something," She gingerly placed what seemed to be a paper bag customized with drawings of cats and hidden dicks in their fur patterns. "Just for you."_

_His brows raised, as did both ends of his lips. "Danke dir," he took the bag in cautious disbelief. "Forgive me for being rude, but... This isn't going to explode glitter or anything when I open it, right?" While she hadn't done that to him, she had told him a story about doing it to mess with a firbolg friend of hers. It apparently took ages to get it all out of his long pink hair._

_She shook her head vehemently. "Oh nonono no," she said with the lilt of laughter. "I wouldn't do that to you... In your workplace, at least." She hoisted herself up on the desktop and stared at him eagerly. "I swear on the Traveller this isn't a prank. It's just a gift."_

_While not completely assured, he reached his fingers inside the bag regardless. Even if it was actually a prank, he'd rather get it over with than prolong the inevitable. He shut his eyes just in case anything popped out, aaaaand..._

_Nothing. He cracked an eye open to find the inside of a regular paper bag, filled with dark brown glazed pastries. They looked nearly identical to bear paws, but smaller. He lifted his gaze to find a smug blue expression._

_"Told you," she taunted. "I wouldn't do that to you, Caleb." She hopped off the desktop. "I call them cat paws. Made me think of you, so I thought you might like them." Her tone gained a hopeful hint. "Do you? Like them, I mean?"_

_He took a moment to try one and reflect. The taste of cinnamon danced about his tongue, followed by the pastry's just-right level of softness that practically melted in his mouth. Jester had obviously taken time and careful effort to get the taste right, and she hit it right on the head. And she made them not only with him in mind, but 'just for him'. Her own words. Very few did such things for him nowadays. No one outside of the Brenattos until now. He swallowed and answered._

_"I love them."_

By the end of the day, he would spot the peculiar russian blue more often than not. She was always in some strange hiding spot alone. She would always regard him in a friendly way, but the most she would usually do when he tried to reach for her was sniff his hand cautiously. He didn't press the matter. She didn't hiss or scratch him. He'd look away for one reason or another, and she'd be gone. There was never any doubt in his mind he'd see the strange cat again.

_He stretched up to get the book in its proper place. Some people always seemed to think it'd be funny to mess up the shelves' organization, and he'd always have to put everything back where it was supposed to be. The feeling of fur rubbing against his legs and the familiar rumble of purring didn't alarm him. Most of the strays were quite fond of him. It was never a surprise when they wanted to show him affection, even when he was in the middle of something._

_It was only a surprise when he glanced down and saw just who it was: the touch-averse russian blue. Wide yellow eyes opened and stared right back at him. The purring didn't stop._

_He couldn't help but smile. "So," he said softly. "Do you like me now, Blueberry?" Blueberry only blinked slowly up at him, butted her forehead against his leg, and walked away. He chuckled to himself. "Thought so."_

+

This night seemed like any other for Caleb. Jester's visit was as pleasant as ever, and time passed swiftly by. It seemed like before he knew it, his shift was over. He gathered his things and fully prepared to walk home alone as per usual.

Yet someone was waiting for him on the steps to the Cat's Cradle. A very peculiar guest, but not an unusual one: Blueberry. Yet something about her was... different this time. It didn't take long to place exactly what it was.

He bent down, cautiously offering his hand to her. "Hello there, blaubeere," he cooed. She not only butted her head against his hand, but she led his fingers to her peculiar new detail: a simple baby blue collar with a clasping silver key instead of a tag. "Did you get an owner? What's the key for?"

Unsurprisingly, she didn't verbally answer him. Just butted the key against his fingers and meowed insistently. Practically inviting him to take it. He didn't really know what else to do, so he simply went along with it. The key was small and cold to the touch. Yet it felt... strangely right to hold. Like it belonged in his grasp.

Looking at her for answers only showed her tilting her head away. She righted it again, only to tilt her head in the same direction a bit more insistently. Almost nonverbally saying, _Come on, this way._ Finally she stood and walked a few steps in that direction before stopping and looking back at him. _You coming?_

Was this a very unusual situation? Without a doubt. Was he curious about where this strange little cat wanted to lead him? Also without a doubt. He had many possibilities of where this could lead locked in his mind, but there was only one way to know which was the right one. So, with only a hint of reluctance, he followed after Blueberry with the key in a tightly clenched grasp.

Blueberry didn't lead him far. A couple yards away from the front of the Cat's Cradle stood a small, difficult-to-notice alleyway nestled snugly between the vet clinic and an abandoned store. Nothing occupied it save for a closed dumpster at the very end across from him. A dumpster that Blueberry not only walked towards, but jumped on. He wasn't far behind. When she looked back at him this time, though, something changed.

She arched her back, her tail straightened and fluffed up. Her ears folded flat against her head and her pupils narrowed. She hissed and let out a low growl. All signs of defensiveness radiating _Back off._ It was then he noticed something else: she wasn't looking at him.

She was looking _right behind him._

He whirled around to see not one, not two, but a group of seven standing behind him. Three large figures- two orcs and a goliath- stood imposingly in the back, blocking off any hope of an exit. A halfling and two humans, one older-looking than the other, stood in the middle with weapons out and pointing at him. The head of the group was a quite familiar sight- the demanding elven man looking, for lack of a more fitting term, like the cat who just caught the canary.

"Well, well, well," the elf man said. "I should have known she'd hide out at the Cat's Cradle, after all." His eyes trailed down to Caleb's hand. His brows raised in slight surprise. "Really? She let _you_ take the key? The stupid goblin's little lackey?"

Caleb set his jaw and stared back at him indignantly. His blood ran with the flame of anger at hearing him talk about Nott that way. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," he stepped back, body covering Blueberry from ranged fire out of instinct. "You must be mistaken."

He chuckled at that. "I don't make mistakes, _boy,"_ he stepped toward Caleb. "You should be grateful. I'm here to give you an opportunity, as reward for being the only person able to take the little minx's key."

His brows furrowed with suspicion. "Really?" He stepped back until his back hit the dumpster. If he could get on top of it, he could climb over the wall to the supposed safety of the other side. If they didn't manage to shoot him to oblivion beforehand. "What would that be?" Talking wasn't attacking. It bought him time to think of a plan.

"Well, most importantly," long fingers wrapped around the emerald hilt of a sheathed dagger attached to his belt and dragged it out. "You get to live. The cat too, if she behaves well." He took a step towards Caleb and pointed the dagger at him. "I'll remember you, and once I'm married to the Ruby's daughter, I'll give you a small share of the wealth."

Caleb's expression turned to cautious confusion at the last part. "What does the key have to do with the Ruby's daughter?" He tried to control his tone, even as he felt Blueberry's weight press on his shoulder. Without even looking at her, he offered his arms for her to lie in. His grasp slackened. His fingers clasped the key back of the collar.

The man scoffed. "You haven't heard?" He asked incredulously. "The daughter of the richest person in town announces she'll marry the one who can get _that key_ from her damn cat, and you did it without knowing?" His brows raised when Caleb slowly nodded. His expression was quick to harden again. "Well, no matter. It's not like the little Lavorre will know anyways." He stepped forward and offered his other hand. "Give me the cat. I won't ask again."

The information was... a lot to process in such a short time. Through all their conversations, Jester never mentioned having a cat. Let alone this little 'announcement'. Yet... his interactions with all those people made sense now. _That's_ why they were so desperate to find Blueberry. They wanted the Lavorre fortune, just like the man in front of him. The one who got the sought key was the one who didn't care about any of that. He had no idea why, but Blueberry seemed to think he was worthy of it. Of _her._

In that moment, Caleb made a decision. 

It was sure to doom him, but better him than Jester, right?

He could feel Blueberry's muscles tense as he moved his arms. The feeling didn't persist long, though. It was gone as soon as Caleb finished throwing the russian blue up overhead. Considering he didn't hear the thunk of her paws against the dumpster lid, he could only guess he'd been successful in throwing her to the safety of the top of the wall.

Naturally, he didn't get the opportunity to check before the enraged elf surged forward and buried the dagger in Caleb's side. The harsh metal sliced through his skin like heat through butter. The cold in his side only persisted for a moment before it left and entered again two more times. It was quickly replaced by the heat of blood rushing to his wounds. His vision blurred at the edges. A loud low animalistic howl filled the air.

"I gave you a _simple_ choice," the harsh voice whispered in his ear. "Die knowing this wasn't necessary." As quickly as it entered, the dagger left his side. The supporting grasp of the man's other hand left him as he stepped away. A swift kick to the back of his knees forced Caleb all too easily to the rough and unwelcoming ground. He screwed his eyes shut and awaited the finishing blow.

The mocking laughter of his attackers grew deathly silent. The horrified howl of Blueberry seemed to... change. He heard someone gasp and murmur something about 'impossible'. It was quite difficult to focus on anything but trying not to bleed out. Regardless, he cracked an eye open to scope out what was going on.

He was greeted by two blurry, but still familiar figures fighting off the attackers. Both looked exactly the same-- blue skin, curled horns, spaded tail and all. They had the same peculiar weapon: a giant pink-swirled lollipop with a dangling green ribbon tied into a bow around the stick. It glowed with a golden aura, but besides that, it was just a giant version of the cat toy Blueberry took. That, and this one obviously proved _far_ more fatal.

"...Jester?" He asked weakly. It had taken far too much effort just to say that simple name. Yet it was enough to focus a pair of shining purple eyes on him.

Before the goliath's axe tore through her midsection. 

Yet instead of blood and gore from such a barbaric move, the Jester looking at him simply... dissolved into nothingness. The other one whirled her head to glare amethyst daggers at the attacker. She said something in a hissing, hellish tongue he couldn't understand, then let out an ear-splitting _scream_ that would have put a banshee to utter shame.

+

He must have temporarily blacked out, for by the time he came back to, he wasn't lying on the ground in some narrow alleyway. He was held aloft quite easily in Jester's arms and moving quickly. The tension in her body visibly deflated as soon as she saw his cracked eyes. "Thank the Traveller," she sighed in relief. "I thought I lost you for a moment there. How are you feeling?"

"Stabbed, primarily," he answered blearily. The pain in his side was sharp as th dagger. "How...? Where...?" Half-finished questions formed in his mind, and his slurred speech only butchered it further.

Thankfully, he didn't have to finish them. "Don't worry about them," Jester assured. "The town guards arrested... most of them." A mischievous twinkle in her eye glimmered, but with an unsettlingly dark edge. 

She continued. "The one who stabbed you wasn't in any shape to go anywhere. His lackeys sure did a number on him, huh?" Ending with a wink, it didn't take long to deduce the truth. "I have healing kits back at my house. They'll fix you right up, with a little help from the Traveller." Her grip on him squeezed for a moment. "You're going to be fine, Caleb. Just stay with me." She was silent for a second, then added, "Please."

He couldn't refuse such a heartfelt request, but the siren song of sleep beckoned him with their seductive melody. His eyes struggled to stay open. "Jester," he said softly. "Tell me..."

Her ears pricked up. Her gaze radiated worry. "Go ahead," she said. "I'll tell you anything. Just stay awake."

"Did you..." Words were difficult to form in the barren wasteland of his throat, but he was determined to get through it. "Do you really... wish to marry me?"

"Yes," the answer was immediate. "I know, I should have told you, but--"

"--But you... liked someone who never saw... you as a stepping stool to nobility," he finished for her. "Am I correct, blaubeere?"

She nodded. "You know," she said softly. "You have quite the way with words. You should be a writer, Caleb." She chuckled halfheartedly at her own joke, then fell silent. When she spoke again, it was tentative. Unsure, yet hopeful. "Do you... wish to marry _me?"_

He mulled it over, but the answer was fairly obvious. "Eventually," he told her. "We'll see how it goes... But I'm not opposed to it."

~+~

"And that, my little lieblings,"

_"is how we got together."_

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! This took a lot longer than I thought it would and i'm a Thirsty Ho for validation   
> my tumblr: squishy--squish   
> my discord: MyBatteryIsLowAndIt'sGettingDark  
> hmu if you want my discord #


End file.
